


In Bruce Santa Believes

by agentsimmons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Santa Claus, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Christmas, Christmas Crack, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Comic Book Science, Companion Piece, Crack, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Not Canon Compliant, POV Bruce Banner, Science Boyfriends, Temporary Amnesia, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentsimmons/pseuds/agentsimmons
Summary: Yes, Dr. Banner, there is a Santa Claus. And he misses you.Companion piece toS For Stark, Not Santa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Want to know what Bruce was thinking during Tony's crazy speech in the original fic? Well, here it is. This is the companion piece to [Chapter 14](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364488/chapters/20711908) and also fills in the blanks a little for Tony and Bruce's discussion in the [Epilogue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364488/chapters/20789341).

Bruce takes a drink of his hot cocoa. It's delicious and does a little to warm the cold, empty feeling in his chest. He doesn't know when he'd discovered his taste for this little café, but he can understand why he did. And he's glad that they're open even in spite of a potential blizzard on Christmas Eve. He's especially glad they're open even on Christmas Eve because as the day's worn on he's felt more and more lost. It's not only the unsettling feeling of knowing he can't remember months of his life, which has been there from the initial onset of his amnesia, but a dysmorphic feeling of having lost something incredibly important along with his memories. He wishes someone would just tell him what it is he's lost, if anything at all.

Bruce sighs, sets down his cup, and before he can register it, the fingers of his right hand begin to fiddle with the watch on his left wrist. They smooth up and down the leather band and along the surface in an unending compulsion. He forces his fingers to stop the movement when he realizes they're doing it again. He seems to do this more and more with each passing day, some strange fascination he's developed since realizing the watch isn't the incredibly old one he recalls having. It's like a piece of him from a life he doesn't remember. 

"One large, deluxe hot cocoa with extra cream, please."

Bruce's heart flutters strangely and his head snaps up to find the source of the familiar voice. He doesn't even know why it's familiar or who it belongs to until his eyes land on the genius billionaire paying for his order at the register. Had he known Tony Stark's voice because he remembered it from that day a week ago in the park? Or because it's still lodged down in his subconscious, since Bruce has gathered he'd gotten the job with Stark Industries and so has likely heard it a number of times in recent months as Stark's employee.

Stark turns to move down the counter, but stops for some reason. That's when Bruce realizes he's been staring far too long at him. He blinks and ducks his head away, knowing he's been caught. But he feels a strange loss in looking away from him that he's not sure what to do with.

"Hey, glad to see you're out and about," Stark says in a conversational tone when he nears the table.

Bruce looks up at him, surprised at how casual he seems. Then it occurs to him how odd it is to run into a man like Tony Stark in a café like this, on Christmas Eve no less. Not to mention he'd discussed coming to the café with his doctor earlier that day. He wouldn't have broken that confidence would he have?

"Um, yeah," Bruce forces himself to reply, and realizes that his confusion tinges his voice. “The doctor said I should just rest, but it’s driving me crazy.” 

“I bet it would,” Stark says in a tone that's oddly empathetic rather than sympathetic. He turns to grab his drink real quick before returning over. “But I guess if you’re going to be out on a night like this, this is a great place to duck into.” He raises his cup. “They make a great hot cocoa.”

Bruce blinks dumbly at him, not sure how to respond. "Mmhmm, yeah, they do. I, um... I never knew about this place before..." He realizes what he's saying and his sentence trails.

"Maybe you discovered it after," Stark offers in a calm voice that makes Bruce feel more at ease. In fact, he's been more at ease in general since Stark arrived.

So he continues, "My... My doctor thinks that too. I guess it makes sense. It's close to Stark Tower. Maybe I stopped off on my way to or from work one day."

"You know you worked for Stark Industries?" Stark asks, sounding hopeful.

"Not because I remember," Bruce answers truthfully and with a shrug, not meeting his gaze. "But it makes sense. Why I was at the charity event or why you seemed to know me already. And why the company keeps sending me flowers and desserts."

"Right. Of course. Well, for what it's worth, you've been a wonderful employee and you still have a job with us when you're able to come back to work."

Bruce startles. "Oh." He has to admit he's a little surprised by that. What good is he to the company if he can't even remember that last several months working there? At the least he'd have to see where he was on any projects and try to figure it out. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," he says, wringing his hands a little as he tries not to seem ungrateful after all Stark Industries seems to have done for him in light of the accident. He's actually a little surprised at how how much they seem to care, unless they feel liable. "Also, um, for all of the flowers," he adds and starts to fiddle with his watch again. "But you really don't have to... I mean, thank you, but... I'm starting to run out of room in my apartment for all of the flowers at this point," he tries for humor. "Although the desserts are really good," he adds in consideration. He'd actually miss the desserts. They're like the most heavenly things he's ever tasted. "I don't mind those," he says honestly and then chuckles. "I guess my sweet tooth was already well known to my coworkers, huh?"

"Hmm? Yes, yes it was," Stark says with a smile, but Bruce thinks it looks a little tight around the edges. He wonders if he's making him uncomfortable. "You even made us cookies on occasion." Bruce stares at him for a long moment. Something about that... There's almost a whisper of a 'yes, I did, didn't I?' But then it's gone like a phantom before he can catch up to it. He blinks and looks down into his drink, uncertain. "Well, I guess I'll let you get back to enjoying your—"

A strange dread seizes Bruce's chest at hearing Stark make his excuses to leave and before he can stop himself his head shoots up and he practically pleads, "Wait." Stark seems startled and Bruce feels sheepish then. "I'm, I'm sorry. That was... I didn't..." He sighs. "It was just nice talking to you," he says, and his stomach flips a little at the confession. "But I understand if you—" Stark cuts his statement off by sitting down in the seat across from him.

Bruce's vision tunnels slightly and he furrows his brow. Something about Stark sitting across from him, here in this café, seems right. He's not sure that it feels like déjà vu and there are no fuzzy memories to back up the feeling, but it still feels right. He realizes he's staring too long again and so shakes his head of his wandering thoughts. He takes a drink of his cocoa and mumbles, "I wish I could remember."

"I wish you could too, Bruce," Tony says with a sigh. Bruce nearly jumps out of his skin, eyes going wide and heart skipping a few beats, at the unexpected sound of his name from Stark. "Oh, right, sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you. I don't really address my employees formally. But I shouldn't have just—"

"No," Bruce interrupts before he can get the wrong idea, "it's… It's okay," he assures him. "It was just..." How does he explain something he doesn't even understand? "It sounded right," he tries. "And it surprised me."

"Oh." Stark narrows his gaze toward the table. Then he looks almost like he wants to smile and Bruce can't help starting to wonder... but, no, that's probably just desperation mixed with how easy this feels when the last week has been anything but for him. "Oh, well, maybe that's a good thing," he offers. "Maybe you should come by Stark Tower sometime. Maybe it'll jog your memory."

"I... I considered that," Bruce admits. "But I'm not sure if I'm ready for that." He's afraid. He's afraid he'll go and there will be nothing at all. Nothing that will just add to the nothing, the blankness that he feels already. "And, you know, doctor's orders," he says, an easy excuse.

He looks down at his watch, traces the face on it. Then he glances up at Stark, slowly furrowing his brow. The other man's eyes are closed and he looks like something is bothering him. Bruce's eyes widen and he glances around, but can't keep his eyes off of Stark for very long. Is it possible they were… _something_? Something more than boss-employee? That seems highly improbable. He's him and Tony Stark is, well, Tony Stark. But the longer he looks, the more they sit here, the more he…

Stark opens his eyes and holds his gaze. His eyes are so bright, and sad, and inquisitive, and deep all at once and it's overwhelming. Bruce doesn't remember, but he wants it to be true. He wants to ask, wants to find out if they were at least something like friends. He'd even settle for acquaintances if it would explain why the empty doesn't feel so empty when…

Bruce clears his throat and ducks his head when he realizes he's being ridiculous. Stark is just humoring him, being charitable to a sick employee on Christmas Eve. 

"I'm sorry. I..." Bruce takes a long drink and then stands. "I'm being foolish. I should be at home. I feel... I..." He looks at Stark again and feels his eyes drawn all across his face, like maybe he's a map and if he searches long enough he'll find answers. But, no, Stark would have said something by now if it wasn't his lonely imagination. "It's too much," he mutters and then a, "sorry."

He hurries to the door and out into the cold, wintry weather. Or at least it would feel cold if he wasn't already chilled and hollow in a way the cold doesn't seem to have any power to make worse. That or because his body has always run a little on the warm side. He pauses and furrows his brow. Has he said that before? He shakes his head and does the smart thing of pulling on his gloves and bundling up just the same.

"Hey, why don't you let me call a taxi." Bruce turns quickly on his heel to see Stark has followed him out. "This isn't the kind of weather to be walking as far as you have to go."

Bruce furrows his brow. Stark knows where he lives? Is it because of all of the care packages? "Um, well, the cold doesn't bother me so much," he states and something about that echoes in his mind too.

"Really, I insist," Stark offers again. "I’m not trying to be patronizing, honestly. But I want you to keep safe. And it's... It's Christmas Eve. Do you have anyone to even spend it with?"

"Yes, actually," Bruce states, trying to stay calm and neutral. This really is starting to become too much and now his head is starting to hurt and his chest is starting to ache for something that doesn't even make any sense, something he doesn't have a name for. Maybe the doctor was right. "I was thinking of heading to the children's home... Um, the one that was at the event," he explains as evenly as he can, although he doesn't think he does a very good job of it. He's going to go to the children's home and spend time with people he can remember from before it all went blank.

"That's even further," Stark protests, frowning as he does.

Bruce lets out a sharp, exasperated exhale of breath and says, "Tony, please, just stop." Then his eyes widen when he realizes what he's done. It had come so naturally. Why had it come naturally? Stark's eyes are wide as well when he focuses on him. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark."

"Don't be," Stark tells him, his voice a little strangled. Bruce hates the sound of it. "We were on a first name basis," he confirms. Bruce feels a twinge of hope. If he'd remembered that subconsciously, maybe he'll remember other things. "And... trust me. You were very aware that I can be a little much sometimes. I'm the one that's sorry. I don't want to make it harder on you." He sighs and runs a gloved hand through his hair. "I need to be getting back to Stark Tower anyway. Tell Peter I said Merry Christmas and that Santa's definitely going to bring him that new, top of the line skateboard he asked for."

Bruce's previous hope is chased away, at least momentarily, by St— Tony's strange comment. "You know Peter?" Enough for him to know Peter had asked Santa for a skateboard? And he wasn't aware Peter was the kind of kid who still believed in Santa.

"I do," Tony answers slowly. "He's a great kid. A little ball of energy."

Bruce blinks, then slowly nods. "He is. I just... I didn't realize you knew him," he explains. Then he considers it. "Unless he was at the charity event. But how did you know about the skateboard? Did he tell you?" Bruce isn't trying to sound suspicious, but his head is spinning as it tries to make heads or tails of it. And at the very least he feels a little responsible for Peter, and the other kids, as a volunteer.

Tony sighs and closes his eyes. Then he mumbles something even more bizarre. "What if I was Santa Claus?" That is if Bruce has heard him right.

"Did you say what if you were Santa Claus?" Tony snaps open his eyes. Bruce studies him for a long moment, not sure how to respond. Then, before he can even stop it, mirth bubbles up into his throat and he laughs. He doesn't mean it to mock the other man. He's genuinely amused by the prospect of Tony Stark as Santa Claus and, honestly, it feels so good to laugh. Just imagining it is making some of that cold feeling go away. "So, like, you dressed at Santa at the event?" He tries to get a better grasp on what Tony means. "Because I'm having a hard time picturing you as everyone's ideal of Santa. No offense," he says with another snort, and brushes back some hair that the wind has blown into his face. The brief motion actually chilled his hand so he stuffs it back into his coat pocket.

"You mean the stereotype of Santa? The one where he's a jolly, old, fat man? What if they're wrong? I mean," Tony shrugs, "what if..."

"If... what?" Bruce is still amused, but now… Now he's curious. He wants to know what's running through Tony's head. And Tony seems inclined to indulge him.

"Everyone is under the impression that Santa Claus works at the North Pole. Or that Santa Claus is some intrinsically good and eternal being. Bullshit on both accounts." Bruce blinks rapidly at Tony's statement, his theory already quite something. He raises one eyebrow to gesture him to continue. "First of all, it's definitely not the same guy for hundreds of years. How creepy would that be?" Bruce shrugs. Santa could always be some sort of magical being or demigod, after all. "I mean, sure, there's this guy who _is_ pretty old, but he's also from another planet, realm, whatever and he's the one who gave the Santa family their whole Santa Claus magic in the first place. And, okay, it's entirely possible the Santa family lives longer than average, but…" His sentence trails and he looks at Bruce. Bruce guesses it's probably because his face is scrunched in uncertainty. It's never been any secret Tony Stark is eccentric. "Wait, what was the point being made here again?"

"Um, not sure," Bruce answers. "Something about the North Pole? Or—"

"Oh, right. Santa does _not_ work at the North Pole," Tony starts again. "There's literally _nothing_ there. Thor the Asgardian might have given them magic, but not the kind of magic that creates a random land mass where there isn't one. He just gave them the magic to bend time and space and all that fun stuff."

"Thor?" Bruce repeats incredulously. He looks Tony over. Maybe he's just come from a holiday party somewhere. Maybe he's a little tipsy? He's seen it from afar in the past.

"And, you know, intelligence might have been a magical gift too because, seriously, to be Santa you have to be _smart_. Kids these days want the good stuff. Also, can I just say micromanaging a company large enough to mass produce that many toys for just a single night… that's probably some magical gift because _it's a lot of work_ and it's not like there are actual elves that do all the work just for Santa to get all the glory. I mean, think about it. One, the stories about the elves is like borderline slavery and, two, there's no way the entire Earth's population of elves lives at the North Pole – which, again, isn't a thing – so that nobody ever has seen an elf."

"True..." Bruce wonders if maybe he should call the taxi for Tony instead.

"Of course, there _is_ Clint Barton; he's practically an elf of _The Lord of the Rings_ variety," Tony says, not that Bruce has any clue who he's talking about. "And Natasha's pretty spritely on her feet. Pepper is cute like an elf, unless you mean that in a demeaning way because then it turns scary and quick." He recalls Pepper from the charity event so Bruce guesses he's creating an elaborate story about his employees as elves. Maybe he'd put this all on as an act for the kids? "And, sure, there are lots of other minions and robots and other things that are technically like helpers, but they're actually employees and not literal elves. They have to get paid, you have to cover dental..." He adds jokingly as an aside, "Hermey, though not an elf, was definitely real and he was a lobbyist for worker benefits." As bizarre as all of this is Bruce can't stifle another laugh. He tilts his head to watch Tony's animated storytelling. "...you have to sign them to a life time Non-Disclosure contract to never reveal the secret complete with the memory erasure clause that states upon resignation, retirement or at the discretion of the company, an employee will have his or her memories selectively removed and replaced telepathically…" Bruce’s throat goes suddenly dry and he swallows hard as something about that, the loss of memories perhaps, hits too close to home. He twists his face in displeasure. Tony doesn’t seem to like the turn the tale has taken either. "Uh, yeah, which really isn't ethical at all, but you know. These things happen from time to time. They're working on better alternatives, I promise." He sighs. "There are essentially a whole lot of cogs and gears that keep Stark Industries running." Bruce relaxes again as his amusement returns. "Yeah, Stark Industries."

Tony shrugs. His story is outlandish and yet there’s something about it. It’s almost warm and inviting in spite of the bitter cold that’s starting to make him want a taxi after all.

"Most of the world thinks of Stark Industries as the leading pioneer in innovation," he continues. "That's great. It's entirely not inaccurate since, yeah, when they're not making toys for good little boys and girls, they're definitely making toys for the adults and obviously they're into making the world a better place because if not there goes their livelihood – and Santa is supposed to be altruistic in general or something like that; it goes without saying. But while most of the people think Stark Industries is a progressive organization in the field of science and technology, with a big ugly building in New York..." He mumbles, "Depending on who you ask." Bruce pulls his hands from his pockets and starts rubbing at his arms. "...and lots and lots of money and scientists on board, again, all true, _behind_ all of that is a group of carefully selected employees all working to make Christmas magical for the world.

"The company manual refers to that coveted elite part of the company, residing on the top ten floors of Stark Tower before you hit the penthouse, as R&D – research and development, basically Candyland. In fact, it's really Toyland. Sure, it's still technically research and development, just of toys. And everyone jokingly refers to it as Reindeer & Delivery even though reindeer haven't been used since the fifties."

Bruce squints, nods, and shrugs. Tony’s rambling is… endearing. He wants to go on listening a little longer, but only if by the warm glow of a fire. And maybe he should be concerned by just how much he likes that notion…

"Let me hail you a taxi, on me," Tony interjects. "I insist." He pulls out his wallet. Bruce isn’t going to refuse this time. "Oh and let's not forget about SHIELD,” Tony gets talking again. “SHIELD, on the outside, is your typical government agency tasked with making the world a better place through protection which goes hand in hand nicely with what Stark Industries is supposed to be about. Right? SHIELD is _supposed_ to stand for Strategic Homeland Intelli… Oh hell, never mind. It's a mouthful. It was easier when it was SSR. But what SHIELD _really_ stands for is Santa's Headquarters for Intelligence on Every Little Deed. Yeah, that's right. Santa still sees you when you're… well, not sleeping. That's pretty much somnophilia without the sexual undertone and also seriously creepy. They definitely don't do that. But the whole naughty or nice thing still stands and SHIELD is there to collect that data. For the outside world it's basically government-run big brother, but secretly it's big brother for children everywhere. Okay, maybe it's still a little creepy."

"A little," Bruce agrees as he grits his teeth against the cold and starts to wonder if Tony can be equal parts endearing and exhausting.

"The point I'm trying to make here is being Santa is _exhausting_.” Bruce holds in a snort at how that maybe answers his previous pondering. “Who would want that kind of responsibility? Who would want to give up the carefree image of genius billionaire playboy just for the sake of giving toys to kids one night a year and having misinterpretations of your identity plastered everywhere in New York between November 1 st and December 26th – and occasionally in July?"

Bruce sees a cab and takes the initiative of hailing it. When it stops he turns to bid farewell to Tony, even if he realizes he really doesn’t want to… crazy story and all.

"Well, this has been..." Bruce searches for a word. "Interesting," he says.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Tony says with a wag of his finger. Bruce raises his brow in askance. "It's one thing to question the official story and another thing entirely to make wild accusations or insinuate that Tony Stark is Santa Claus," Bruce snorts and rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness he feels deep down as he does, "but the truth is… deep down… where the spirit of Christmas lives…" Bruce turns to get into the taxi. "You already know who I am."

Bruce pauses, his hand resting on the taxi door where he was just about to open it. His heart beats rapidly as the words echo over and over in his ears. Bruce slowly turns his head to really study him. The feeling returns, the feeling of emptiness filling up just a little with a yearning that maybe Tony is a piece of the scattered puzzle waiting to be put back together. Only this time, it's stronger. He still doesn't remember, but somehow _he knows_. So he takes a chance, and holds his breath. 

"We were friends, weren't we?"

Tony squeaks as if in surprise and his bright eyes glisten with tears. "Yes," he answers evenly.

Bruce has to look away because of the tears brimming in his own eyes. He tries to give a neutral hum as he opens the taxi door. "What was that like?" he asks, curious and uncertain about the new ache in his chest.

"Perfect."

Bruce rolls his lips and then worries the bottom. His heart flutters at Tony's answer and yet his answer doesn't do what he'd expect it would. It doesn't make anything make sense. In fact, he feels just a little bit lost. Maybe because he can't remember.

"Wish I could remember," Bruce says with a sigh. He shakes his head and gets into the back of the cab. Tony hands him the cash and holds onto the door. "Merry Christmas, Tony," Bruce says, looking up at him, offering him a small smile. "I'll be sure to pass along your message that Tony Stark is bringing Peter a skateboard for Christmas."

"I'm sure he'll be very excited," Tony says with a smile that looks tight around the edges. "Merry Christmas, Bruce."

He steps back and makes to shut the door, but Bruce suddenly can't just leave it at that. Suddenly there's a feeling of trepidation he doesn't understand. He wants, no needs, Tony to be safe tonight too. It's incredibly important for him not to underestimate the weather. For some reason he feels more concern for Tony risking his life in this storm than he had for his own well-being.

"By the way," he stops him and looks up at him beseechingly, "please be safe tonight yourself. This weather is crazy. Do you want dropped off at Stark Tower?"

Tony shakes his head. "No, I'll catch the next one," he says with a small smile and shuts the door.

Bruce deflates into his seat and looks out the window at Tony, feeling his concern grow, as the driver pulls away from the curb. "Where to?" The question breaks him from his thoughts momentarily and he gives the driver the address of the children's home.

Then he sinks back into his thoughts. His hand finds his watch again as he thinks about his unfortunate life. It's always been his luck for these things to happen it seems. If he really was friends with Tony Stark, and working again in the profession he loves no less, then not being able to remember any of that is a just like his luck. His life had to have been marginally better. He has not trouble at all imagining how he might have been enjoying his life again, especially if it turns out the company was also involved in philanthropy as the charity event seems to suggest. The small, illogical whisper in his head says it was probably everything he'd ever could possibly want.

The louder thoughts in his mind are currently considering how Tony Stark isn't the man he'd expected. He seems kinder than he would have thought of him and quite possibly into philanthropy as more than just a pat on the back if he'd actually taken the time to get to know the kids, such as Peter. Bruce smiles a little to himself. Tony definitely seems like something. And it's crazy to think they're friends. Or were friends. He wouldn't call himself Tony's type from what he remembers of him from the same crowds or the tabloids. Maybe he really is more lovable asshole than just—

"You okay?" The driver glances at him in the rear-view mirror.

Bruce blinks and then glances back. "Hmm?" He furrows his brow, trying to process the question. "Oh. Oh, yeah, fine." He realizes they've stopped and glances out of the window. They've already reached the children's home.

"You've been zoned out," the driver fills in the blanks. "I would have thought you'd maybe fallen asleep or something, but nope. You kept fiddling with your watch. Thinking about someone special then?"

"Yes," Bruce answers, the word falling from his lips naturally before he can even consider it.

"Well, then happy holidays to you and yours," the driver offers. "I imagine they'll be closing the roads here soon so we're looking at a snowed-in Christmas."

“Probably,” Bruce agrees as he leans forward to offer what he owes plus a tip.

The driver whistles low in appreciation. “That really is a nice watch, by the way. I don't wear in when I'm driving, you never know, but my kids got me a really nice one last year. Sorta reminds me of it. Mine's not quite as fancy as that maybe, but it's nice. Has an inscription on the back and everything."

Bruce looks down at his own watch and can't check a small smile. "Sounds pretty special," he offers conversationally.

"You get yours from someone special too then I take it?" The driver asks as he takes the money finally. "Looks new."

Bruce doesn’t know how to respond to that question. "Um, it is," he says in answer to the second comment, since technically it's new to him no matter how long he's had it, and lets the driver think what he will about it.

"Well, you have a good night and stay warm," the driver says then.

"You too," Bruce says as he gets out of the taxi.

Bruce is immediately assaulted by the cold, blowing snow. It chills him to the bone now. He takes a quick step toward the home, but then comes to a sharp stop. He furrows his brow and looks down at his watch.

It _does_ look new. The leather band is barely even broken in. Was he right about it being a birthday present? And it does look incredibly expensive. More expensive than anything he would buy for himself. He's too practical. And he wouldn't let any of his family members spend that much on him.

The longer he stares at it the more he's taken with the notion to turn the watch over and look at the back, see if there's an inscription. As crazy as it sounds, as much as he knows he shouldn't, he hopes there _is_ something there. And he hopes it points to Tony Stark.

Bruce sighs and decides to look. At the very least it will quell his foolish fancy with cold hard reality when it's realizes there isn't anything there. He carefully unfastens the watch and, with a breath, slowly turns it over.

_I Believe In You_

Bruce gasps and then closes his eyes against the sudden, sharp pain to his head as everything comes rushing back to him. Tony, the café, the conference, Tony's secret, R&D, the other elves, Christmas and then more Christmas, Tony's lips against his own, the perfect warmth of Tony's body, Tony's glow, the charity events, falling in love with Tony, the watch… _You already know who I am_.

Bruce's lip trembles as he opens his eyes and he looks at the words on the watch Tony had given him. 

"Tony," he says, throat strangled by all of the emotion he feels. The elation, the relief, the ache he now understands. He remembers. He remembers everything. He remembers— "Loki," he blurts with sudden dread.

Loki did this. He wants to hurt Tony. He wants to destroy Christmas.

Bruce quickly fastens the watch back around his wrist and then looks at the time. He has to get back to Stark Tower. He has to get back to Tony. He has to get back to the man he loves, the man who believes in him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about anyone else, but my new year has been crazy busy so far. That's why I haven't gotten to everyone's amazing comments from the end of the original fic yet. That said, I hope everyone's having a good 2017 so far.


End file.
